


A little sympathy (I hope you can show me)

by LiesAreInTheBlood



Series: The Wars We Try to Fight Alone [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: How is the cat not a tag?, Jschlatt is nice... ?, L’manberg, Other, Patches the cat - Freeform, The Second War, This is sacrilege.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiesAreInTheBlood/pseuds/LiesAreInTheBlood
Summary: Dream has to prepare for war, and he’s starting to think he’s finally on the right side.Branch off where Dream is genuine with his protection of the presidency.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Patches
Series: The Wars We Try to Fight Alone [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042191
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	A little sympathy (I hope you can show me)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Let Me Down Slowly(Alec Benjamin)
> 
> This is purely for entertainment. I really don’t want to see people pushing myself or other creators because they don’t like what’s written. And if Dream, Jschlatt, or Wilbur changes their stance on fanfics, I will remove this.  
> Please be respectful.
> 
> Otherwise— just enjoy!

It feels all too normal for him.

The grinding of the blade, the scent of gunpowder, the wry, twisting threats that are, as always, too little too late.

They would be a bad thing, if it were anyone else.

It would send any lesser man into a panic, and they would end up paranoid, and overwhelmed.

For Dream, it’s a sign.

From the stars, and the moon, softly singing,  _You’re alive, you’re still here._

_You still have something to fight for._

And occasionally, someone.

But this is not one of those times. 

He stands up from the workbench, and tightens his mask slightly before pushing on the door. It opens with a soft click.

The sun is far too bright today, too bright for what’s planned. Jschlatt echoes through his mind.

_Do whatever is needed, but they have to see me die._

_And they have to know that there is no coming back from Wilbur Soot._

Dream knew nearly everyone in his lands personally, and the Rebellion was no exception.

He’d spent hours relaying their weaknesses and strengths to the president, and had to admit, that he probably knew them better than they knew themselves.

It’s a jarring feeling, and entirely unwelcome.

His mind pulls him back to their bargain.

_The bunkers built into the sewers are new, Dream thinks._

_He doesn’t remember seeing those before._

_Jschlatt emerges from one, bottle clutched in one hand like Dream used to hold his axe. Like his life depended on it._

_It wasn’t comforting to know the president still gave into bad habits._

_He’s grumbling about the lighting, hand pressed against one blackstone wall, and teetering slightly in his boots. Dream just watches from the entrance, until Jschlatt gestures for him to follow, like he can see straight through the darkness._

_Dream wonders aimlessly if that’s the hybrid part of him._

_They walk for a while, until they hit a separate wooden trail— and the president knocks aside some gravel, takes another swig of liquor, and walks right into Pogtopia._

_Dream has to tug on his mask to keep himself from laughing out loud._

_ Of  course he knew where they were hiding. _

_Jschlatt leads him to a ditch in the corner, and sits on the edge, pulling out a book and bottle. So Dream sits beside him, keeping one hand on the handle of his sword, and the other on the alcohol._

_The whiskey burns his throat._

_“I have an offer, dear Clay,” And Dream winces at the name. It’s far from a secret, but it’s still strange to him. Unfamiliar._

_He replies with a hum, and flips open the book. It’s blank._

_The President leans back, feet dangling over the pit, and ends his pitch._

_“I can offer you complete control over the situation in L’Manberg. The presidency, our treasury, the works— and in return, you kill me.”_

_He chokes on that, thankful that the mask covers any surprise._

_“What?”_

_Jschlatt smiles, suddenly looking somber._

_“I’ll die, no matter what I do, so why not take down the other side with me?”_

_Dream has no answer for that._

_Instead, he lifts his eyes to the ceiling._

_Dream knew that he’d been the villain in the story last time, he knew it from the moment that they’d seen the wall. He’d accepted it, that time._

_There was no other way out for him._

_Now, though?_

_Now, he has a choice. And he wasn’t a fool— he knew what Jschlatt wanted from him. There wasn’t an option for him to simply stab the president and walk away into the sunset._

_ No, it was more than that. It was, make sure this never happens again, and that they never make their way back from the destruction  we  cause . _

_In the end, it’s nomenclature that pushes him over. Jschlatt had called it L’Manberg. Not Manberg. Or SMP._

_L’Manberg._

_He wonders, looking back at the president, who’s scrawling into the book with neat, dark font, who he’s really helping here._

_He wonders if this is just Schlatt giving up everything for his friend._

_He signs the book when they’re done, and throws back the last of the amber drink, and writes a letter in his head that no one will ever read._

_**Dear Wilbur.** _

__

_**I have known you for a long time, and yet have never seen you like this. So utterly uncomposed, sickly, twisted.** _

__

_**And yet, I have never seen you so incredibly satisfied.** _

__

_**This is me paying my debt to you. We took your country, your friends, your sanity. Now Jschlatt would like to grant your one wish, and really, who am I to stop him?** _

__

_**I guess this makes us even.** _

_For the first time, Dream knows he’s making the right choice._

He’s pulled out of his reverie by Patches, who’s meowing and winding herself around his leg. He grins shortly, a rare, dazzling thing, and spears a couple fish on the point of his blade.

Dream just sits there for a while, breathing mellow, mind racing, and pets the cat. 

Then he gets the call.

“You’re ready?” The other man sounds out of breath, like he’s being chased.

“We need you now, Dream. Techno supplied them with some stuff— there’s a lot of it. We need their base.”

“Alright, I’ll go back over the maps. Sunset, Sap. Don’t engage them until dark.” There’s hesitation, he can hear it. Then, “Fine, get over here soon.”

He hangs up.

He picks up Patches, making sure that the lead is taut— he never liked leashing her, but he can’t risk her running off  _today_ —  and sets on making himself a drink.

He still has a war to fight.

Dream sighs, and runs one hand through his hair. It’s only been a week since he’d made the deal with Jschlatt— and the man was smarter than he acted.

Or maybe seeing most of his citizens defect from his side had made the president a little more aware to their situation.

Whatever it is, it’s working.

He’d already set out plans structuring their defense of the perimeter, that might actually work. He had the layout of their base, and their resource drops, even records of their attack patterns.

They’re pretty well prepared.

Yes, it’s not the fighting that he’s wary of— but the consequences.

Even if they won— even if they managed to secure their hold over the traitors— the Rebellion would live on.

And if they failed, and the Rebellion won, everything would go back to how it’d started.

With a leader, an agenda, and an empty throne.

Dream glares into his cup of hot chocolate.

Too much lies in the hands of anarchists.

Though, some small part of him thinks, There’s a king among them.

He glances back to the events of the morning. Even though he‘s glad Eret redeemed himself, he couldn’t condone that behavior.

Not even for him.

Dream sent him on his way with respect, but no sympathy, and then he braced himself.

The coming hours will have a toll on them all.

And Dream hums quietly to himself, a song long forgotten by most, but Wilbur Soot.

He hums over the weight of his country, and his king, and his loyalty.

And the grinding of his blade.

**Author's Note:**

> Three guesses as to what the song is.


End file.
